


touch on you more and more every time

by AozoraNoShita



Series: vague undefined office au [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: "what are we?", Accidental Relationship, Human Disaster Aaron Burr, M/M, Pining Without Plot, Slow Burn, vague undefined office AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6781030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AozoraNoShita/pseuds/AozoraNoShita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recently Aaron had been thinking—overthinking, again—the friendship question, but unfortunately his feelings on the subject remained a mystery, even to himself. Sometimes he wanted to talk to Alex, unrestrained, unfiltered, in a way he hadn’t since he was a child. Sometimes he wanted to shoot the man. And sometimes, most alarmingly, he wanted to touch him. Not anything big, just a press of the hand or a light pressure on the shoulder, but what was worrying in a way the talking or murder impulses weren't was that Aaron couldn't seem to actually stop himself from doing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what i'm going this has been sitting on my computer for months and I'm hoping just publishing it will help me finish it AND my other wip (which is selkie au lams, if you're interested)  
> you can also find me on tumblr at my writing blog (aozoranoshita) or my main (piratecat) (if you're interested)  
> do people still use the word clusterfuck?? idk, but comments/kudos are appreciated very much

Aaron had been described as cold before. Frigid, even. As far as other people were concerned, he lacked any kind of passion—warmth, if you will—and he was content to let people think that they wanted. It didn't really bother him; after all, a lot of the time he did actually feel...frozen. He could picture it, sometimes, the image sneaking up on him randomly in quiet moments. His blood freezing in its flow, making his arteries into trails of ice, not taking oxygen out to his cells but instead leaching all the warmth from the muscle and tissue and then the cold circulating back through his veins to his heart—well. The metaphor didn't really work because 'cold' was only an absence of heat, not a concrete thing that could travel like that. But. Anyway. The point was, sometimes Aaron felt more like an absence than a presence.

Alexander was _all_ presence. Rather than saying he 'lacked' self-preservation or 'lacked' the ability to keep his mouth shut for more than ten seconds, Aaron would say he _had_ a foolhardy recklessness and _had_ the gift of gab. They were fundamentally different that way, and no matter any differences or similarities in personality, methods, beliefs, it would always come down to that. Alexander was loud, Aaron was not. Alexander was aggressive, Aaron was not. Alexander was non-stop. Aaron was not. Alexander _was_ , Aaron _was not_. Which was fine, really. Aaron would get where he wanted to go just as well his own way.

Despite their differences, though, they tended to run into each other. They kept meeting in coffee shops, at the post office, in bars, in diners, at the grocery store, in the office building's elevator, and more. Aaron had once even looked over while stopped at a light to see Alex jamming out to something with incredibly loud bass in the car next to him.

"The universe wants us to be friends," Alexander informed him cheerfully. "Don't fight it."

"Joy," he muttered belatedly into his coffee cup, digging out his wallet and only half-listening as Alex nattered on about Jefferson—again—in the seat across from him, waffles forgotten and congealing in syrup on his plate. He _kept_ talking, even as Aaron paid both their bills, even as they exited the cafe, even as they crossed the street to the office building, and even as they stepped onto the elevator and Aaron hit the buttons for their respective floors.

The elevator ascended and paused on the third floor. Alexander moved automatically to disembark (still talking, good God) and Aaron clapped a hand onto his shoulder to stop him.

"This isn't your floor," he explained, rolling his eyes when Alex finally shut up to give him an incredulous look.

Lafayette entered the elevator. "Going up?" he asked cheerfully, hitting the button for the top level and then digging out his phone to text someone.

"Oh," Alex said. "Thanks, Burr. Sometimes I don't notice things like that when I get going. Actually come to think of it I don't remember paying for my food, shit."

"I paid for it," Aaron informed him mildly. "You're good."

"Oh," he said again. "Thanks, I guess. I could have paid."

"Of course," he agreed. "At least eat it next time, yeah?" He hoped Alex wasn't going to raise a fuss about this in the elevator. But Alex just just hummed, staring at him until the doors opened again on his floor.

"I'll just pay for our next date," he announced suddenly, grinning. With a jolt Aaron realized he was still gripping Alexander's shoulder, and he immediately retracted his hand and let it fall back to his side. Alex exited and did a quick spin on his heel to blow Aaron a kiss before he strode off and the elevator closed again.

 _Asshole_ , Aaron thought.

He caught Lafayette smirking down at his phone and scowled. "Don't say anything," he warned. The Frenchman held his hands up placatingly. " _Non_ , of course not. I would never."

"Uh-huh." He got off on his own floor, got back to work, and pointedly didn't think about that entire exchange.

Except that he did, and the thing was, once he'd started thinking about it, it was hard not to start overanalyzing—not just today, but all their other interactions. And in the process he realized that Alexander actually let him get away with a lot of things he didn't let others do. Reminders to eat from Mulligan or Laurens were greeted with loud 'You're not my mother!' complaints, while Aaron's were grudgingly received, if not always followed. Alexander could weasel his way out of a serious conversation about his well-being with his friends in less than a minute, but he'd put up with Aaron's vague prodding about his sleep schedule for marginally longer. He wasn't sure why, but he had a feeling that 'You're an orphan? Of course! I'm an orphan, too!' had something to do with it. And while a playful argument with Laurens might get shut down with a laugh and a 'Man, shut up!', Alex was never satisfied with just letting it go when it came to Aaron; he'd argue until his voice was hoarse, gaze burning, looking like he relished every one of Aaron's irritated sighs. But he never snapped and started yelling the way he did when arguing with Jefferson.

 _Which puts me somewhere between Laurens and Jefferson, his friend and his enemy, on the sliding scale of regard_ , Aaron mused as he filled out the last of the paperwork needed for the current file. _Which makes me, what?_

 _Frenemies,_ his mind supplied helpfully, and he snapped the manila folder shut. "And that's enough for today," he decided. "Frenemies, Jesus Christ." He scooped up the assorted files on his desk and headed for the elevator, resolving not to think about work or Alexander Hamilton until the next day at the earliest. Except, since apparently the universe either wanted them to be friends or just really fucking hated Aaron Burr, Alex was already on the elevator, balancing a precariously high stack of files in his arms.

"Hey again, Burr. Oooh, is that the Chipman file? Gimme."

Aaron eyed the stack. "Sure you've got all those?"

"Pfft, yeah, no problem."

Aaron shrugged and obligingly placed the file on top. Alexander's eyes flashed, they way they did when he was either really pissed or really excited about something, two states he seemed to reach fairly frequently and often at the same time. "Awesome. I'm gonna stop off on the second floor for some files from accounting and then head down to the basement to cross-reference with the old files and then—"

"It's five," Aaron cut in before he could build up steam. "You know, when most people head home?"

Alex made the 'pffft' noise again as the elevator slowed down. "Like I got time for that." He swayed forward as the lift stopped, and Aaron automatically reached out a hand to steady him. "I'm fine, I'm fine. See ya tomorrow!" And he flounced off into the depths of Accounting, walking much faster than any sensible person holding that many papers should.

Aaron stared down at his hand, still extended, as the elevator closed and began moving again. For all of Alexander's...prickliness, it seemed like it was all too easy for Aaron to forget himself and reach out to touch him, casually, as though they were close friends. Alex was very—

 _Touchable_ , his mind offered another helpful suggestion. Obviously it was time to drown it in alcohol. Thirsty Thursday and all that. But if he went out to a bar Alexander would undoubtedly find him somehow. He resigned himself to an evening in with a bottle of whiskey.

 _Touchable_ , he mouthed silently to himself as he fumbled with his car keys. _Ridiculous_.

And that was how it started.

* * *

 

The vast and incomprehensible forces of the universe, also known as Alexander Hamilton, _really_ wanted them to be friends. This was the third project in as many weeks they'd been assigned to work on together, and that kind of thing didn't just happen. Alexander _must_ have requested it somehow, but Aaron wasn't about to ask, especially not with the man in question smirking at him like that.

"You sure?" Alex asked, apparently reading his mind. "You've got this expression on your face like you reeeeally wanna ask."

"No I don't," he replied automatically.

"Yes you do!" Alexander seemed positively gleeful about it, and Aaron scowled before trying to make his expression completely neutral and freezing it like that. Like an ice sculpture.

"What're you doing?" asked Alex, amused.

"What are _you_ doing?" he shot back, giving up on the endeavor. "You look like you just went a round with the demon printer on floor five and lost."

Which was true. Irritated, he reached out to tug Alexander's shirt collar back into place and roll up his left sleeve so it was at least even with his right. As he worked, Alex babbled about how _actually, he'd been in the uncharted territory of Accounting hell to find this file with these numbers which were gonna blow the minds of everyone who witnessed their presentation, and are you even listening, Burr?_

"Uh-huh," he replied absently, undoing Alexander's tie so he could redo the sloppy knot. Alex went mercifully silent for this part, but when Aaron looked up again he was asked, "Are you done fussing now?"

Unimpressed, Aaron licked two of his fingers and reached for Alexander's face.

He jerked back instinctively. "Whoa, what're you doing?"

"There's ink all over your face, hold still." Using his other hand he grasped Alexander's chin and held him in place while he wiped most of the smudges off. "There, you look halfway presentable," he said when he released him. " _Now_ we can go blow their minds."

Alex blinked at him for a moment. "Right." Then with more enthusiasm, "Let's do this!"

They did, in fact, impress the right people with their project, which led to more co-assigned projects, which culminated in Aaron meeting Alex outside of normal work hours (specifically, on a Saturday night) to make some headway on their increased workload.

At Alexander's apartment.

"Are you feeling the stirrings of universe-preordained friendship yet?" was Alexander's overenthusiastic greeting when he opened the door.

"Um."

Recently Aaron had been thinking—overthinking, again—the friendship question, but unfortunately his feelings on the subject remained a mystery, even to himself. Sometimes he wanted to talk to Alex, unrestrained, unfiltered, in a way he hadn’t since he was a child. Sometimes he wanted to shoot the man. And sometimes, most alarmingly, he wanted to touch him. Not anything big, just a press of the hand or a light pressure on the shoulder, but what was worrying in a way the talking or murder impulses weren't was that Aaron couldn't seem to actually stop himself from doing it. In the past week alone he'd caught himself grabbing Alexander's wrist to lead him somewhere twice, tap him on the shoulder for attention when a simple 'hey' would have sufficed seven times, and once even give an annoyed tug to Alex's ponytail when he spent too long glaring into the depths of a complicated-looking Excel file. The first few times he'd initiated this kind of casual contact Alex had looked at him weird but let it go when Aaron pointedly didn't say anything, embarrassed. But by the time of the ponytail-pulling it didn't even seem to register that it should be weird. Alexander just accepted it.

So they weren't talking about it, and it didn't seem like Aaron was going to be able to stop his traitorous subconscious from touching. Which was fine. Just as long as things didn't escalate.

Except.

"Um."

Alexander was wearing an oversized scoop-neck sweater, and it was dangerously close to slipping off one shoulder, and for _some reason_ , Aaron's first thought was a mildly panicked _fuck_. Why? It wasn't like he'd expected Alex to be wearing a suit and tie in his own home. And this wasn't some kind of stupid soft-lighting slow music romance movie—the sight of Alex's collarbone didn't make his heart pound or his stomach flutter. No, the problem was the same problem as before, he realized. He wanted to _touch_.

"Alright there, Burr?"

"Yep," he answered shortly and then closed his mouth tightly, lest his body decide to betray him further and blab his inappropriate urges to the unwitting recipient. Alexander shrugged and retreated back into the apartment, leaving Aaron to step in and close the door behind himself. He noted with another pang of unexplainable distress that Alex was barefoot, and wondered if he should take his own shoes off.

"C'mon already!" Alex called, and Aaron decided to keep the shoes on. In case he needed to make a fast exit. He moved into the main living space of the apartment. There was a loveseat rather than a full couch, which had been shoved in one corner with a coffee table pressed right up against it, apparently to make room for the numerous stacks of paper that were scattered across the floor. "So," Alex said, glaring down at the mess with his hands on his hips. "I think this pile has everything pertinent to _just_ the Sands case." He indicated which pile he meant with his bare foot. " _But_ if we wanna tie in the Croucher debacle, those two piles over _there_ ," he wobbled a bit as he extended his leg further to point with his toes at some other papers, "have most of the stuff I photocopied from the archived files down in the basement. I put 'em in two piles, though, because there were two _completely_ different versions of the same damn file, and written by completely different people! And like, _why_? But anyway I _think_ I got everything relevant out of the rest of this nonsense but if you wanna double check behind me I mighta missed something. Fresh eyes couldn't hurt, I feel like mine are about to fall out of my head, _ugh_."

"When's the last time you slept?" Aaron interrupted, noticing now the dark circles under his coworker's eyes. Alex just shrugged and hummed an 'I dunno' noise. The shrugging motion made the sweater sleeve slip and fall partway down his arm, revealing a petite, tanned shoulder and a good portion of the pectoral muscle over his heart.

 _!!!_ Aaron's brain screeched, and he quickly looked away, forcing his gaze down to glower at the closest papers like they'd personally insulted him. "Take a nap or something," he ordered. In his peripheral vision he saw Alex open his mouth to argue, but he cut him off. "I need to be able to _focus_ to go through all this. And it'll take me a while since I'm not a caffeine-addicted speed-reading hurricane of a man like you are. Now is the time for you to sleep. Then we can power through closing this clusterfuck together. Okay?"

He could tell Alex was debating arguing still, but was pleasantly surprised when all he did was huff and step over the coffee table to curl up on the loveseat.

"Wake me up as soon as you're done," he demanded, wriggling around to find a comfortable position.

“Yeah, yeah." He lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the floor and scooped up the nearest pile, starting to rifle through and attempt to figure out the rest of Alex's sorting system for the files he'd deemed extraneous. After a few minutes went by and Alex made no further movements or noise, he let himself look over.

Alex had settled on his side, facing the back of the couch. The oversized sweater draped around him, making him look smaller than he was. Aaron could see the top of his left shoulderblade. He repressed the urge to smack himself in the face with the sheaf of papers he was holding, looked away, and got to work.

After an hour and a half hunched over and sitting on the floor (what with Alex taking up the only furniture in the sparse room), he ended up spread out on the carpet with a stack of papers next to his head that he drew from, read by holding directly over his face, and then sorted as either 'useless' or 'possibly relevant' by tossing them into new piles by either his left or right hip. The carpet was thin, and he winced as his spine straightened and settled along the hard floor with several muted cracking noises. _I'm too young for this_ , he thought mournfully as he discarded yet another paper.

He blinked, and—

"Dude, I told you to wake me up. And you fell asleep."

Aaron jerked awake to find Alexander leaning over him, looking halfway between annoyed and amused.

This was the point where Aaron realized he was fucked, because with Alexander above him, hair loose and sweater already sliding down again and goddamned collarbone visible, Aaron's heart started pounding and his stomach started fluttering. Straight up romance movie nonsense.

"Oh _shit_ ," he said out loud.

"Don't worry," Alex told him, "you haven't been asleep that long. And it looks like you finished sorting before you dropped off! Nice. Now we can really get started."

Aaron groaned and covered his face with his hands.

"Up and at 'em, Burr!" the cheerful voice of his Certain Doom prodded. "Now that we're both well-rested maybe we can get this done before, like, four in the morning...3 AM tops!"

Certain. Doom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love italics


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello I'm about to go to work so this hasn't really been edited much  
> thanks for pointing out the errors in the last chapter, hopefully I fixed everything!!  
> comments and kudos are SUPER appreciated, especially since I'm working all weekend and will be checking my phone sporadically to ease my suffering

Aaron had never needed a lot of sleep to feel rested, but working with Alexander Hamilton was _exhausting_. They ended up working through the night, and by the time he slid into the booth seat of the diner around the corner from Alex's apartment on Sunday morning, he was ready to drop dead. Alex, on the other hand, seemed buoyed by the fact that they'd been up to watch the inexorable rise of the sun, and was practically bouncing on his feet.

"Hey, I see Laurens and Lafayette over there! I'm gonna ask them if they wanna join us, okay?"

Aaron waved a hand in acquiescence and Alex scurried off. He sighed in the quiet left behind, closing his eyes and pondering the merit of just going to sleep where he was sitting. Alex would just come wake him up again, he concluded. Not worth it. He lifted his arms above his head, kicked his feet out, and stretched as far as he could in the small diner seat, groaning as his back cracked its complaints yet again.

Alex had lent him an outfit for the morning. The jeans fit fine; the two men were roughly the same height. But the T-shirt was kind of tight, seeing as Aaron was a bit broader in the shoulders. The clothes were soft with wear, and clean—they smelled like generic laundry detergent. They were slightly creased from being tightly folded. As Aaron considered these little details, he settled back in his seat, eyes still closed.

Right. In all the chaos of their late work session, he'd temporarily put out of his mind the horrifying revelation he'd had last night: Alexander was making him _feel_ things. Like a...a _crush_ , if he had to pick a highly embarrassing word for it, because everything about the idea was highly embarrassing. "Sweet Jesus," he muttered to himself.

"Y'alright there, Burr?" John Laurens asked as he slid into the seat across from him, Lafayette right beside him and already smirking as only the French could.

"I'm fine, just tired," he demurred, reluctantly opening his eyes again. "How are you this morning?"

"It's too damn early to tell."

Aaron and Lafayette nodded in agreement.

"Coffee!" Alex announced, appearing with a whole pot. "The waitress looked busy so I just took this one," he explained, seeing Aaron's look. Laurens and Lafayette turned their mugs over and Alex poured them both steaming cupfuls.

"This coffee is shit," Lafayette informed the table at large, even as he started to drink it.

"Why are you taking it black, then?" Laurens asked, also drinking his own coffee black, grimacing at the taste.

Alex flipped Aaron's mug and poured him some coffee as well.

"Thanks," Aaron sighed, and took a tentative sip. Eh, he'd had worse.

"We'll be sure to leave you a tip," Laurens snickered.

"Haha, shut up," Alex told him, rolling his eyes as he served himself and then sliding into the booth next to Aaron to start pouring sugar and creamer into his own mug. Lafayette scoffed, then yelped as he was kicked under the table. "Where's Mulligan, anyway?" Alex asked.

As the table descended into conversation, Aaron let his eyes close again and curled one hand around the warmth of the coffee mug where it rested on the table. He leaned back and lifted his other hand to drape his arm along the back of the seat. He could deal with a crush, he mused absently. This was just a minor inconvenience. Maybe it would even go away, eventually. He just had to keep a cool head and never, ever give Alex any indication something was up. _Don't allow it to escalate to anything more than it is,_ he told himself. But things did always seem to escalate, where Alex was concerned. _Can't let that happen_ , he thought, and opened his eyes to see Laurens and Lafayette staring at him.

Oh God had he said any of that out loud? He didn't think so, but then why were they looking at him like that? There was motion at his side and he glanced over to see Alex fidgeting with his cup. He looked up from where he was hunched over in his seat and raised his eyebrows, giving Aaron a half-grin before straightening and leaning back to sit more comfortably.

" _Anyway_ ," he said pointedly, and launched into another tangent about which of their coworkers was currently annoying him. As Alex babbled, Aaron realized why he was being stared at: with his arm along the seat and behind Alex's neck, he probably looked like an overprotective boyfriend staking a claim. Fuck. As Alex got more animated, his hair brushed against the inside of Aaron's arm. _Fuck_.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," Laurens announced suddenly. "Be right back." He climbed over Lafayette and left the table. Alex lapsed into momentary silence in his absence, before turning to address Aaron.

"Are you doing that to get a rise out of Laurens?" he asked.

"A rise—? What?" Genuinely confused, he had no idea how to answer. The implication was that Laurens would be bothered by the gesture though. "I mean, it's a perk," he admitted, because honestly they didn't get along that well.

It occurred to him a second too late that he'd shown too much of his hand, though. The other two could—correctly—infer from his statement that annoying Laurens was only a bonus to having his arm in such a possessive position, and judging by Lafayette's smirk and Alex's full-blown grin, they'd caught that.

"I have not had enough coffee for this conversation," he muttered. Neither called him on it.

He kept his arm in place, even when Laurens came back.

And they never ended up having a conversation about it. Which suited him perfectly fine.

Really.

* * *

A week later Mulligan returned from wherever he'd been (Aaron had missed most of the conversation, too focused on repressing his inner panic to pay attention). He immediately insisted on inviting what seemed like the entirety of the office building out for drinks. And for _some reason_ —that reason being Alex Hamilton—he also insisted on dragging Aaron with them.

The week after that morning in the diner had been filled with even more casual touching. After realizing Alex wasn't going to say anything about it, Aaron had given in and let his stupid, infatuated subconscious do its thing. He was pretty sure most of their coworkers thought they were dating, based on the looks he got when he put his hand on the small of Alexander's back or leaned into his personal space to look at something. No one had actually said anything to him, though, and he wasn't about to volunteer the information—especially since he was pretty unclear about the situation himself. By Friday, when Mulligan came sweeping onto his floor to announce that 'the squad and some of the guys and gals from accounting' were going to their favorite bar downtown, and 'Burr you gotta come because Alex is, don't fight me on this,' he wasn't really surprised at the invitation.

"We're all cramming into two or three cars," Mulligan explained, "so no one gets any ideas about driving home drunk. You wanna be one of the DDs?"

Aaron liked to maintain a certain level of control over himself when he went out. He'd drink in social situations, sure, but never enough to risk anything embarrassing. Usually, it'd be a pretty safe bet to ask if he wanted to be a designated driver. Now, though, he was suffering from a case of Mild Infatuation with Alexander Hamilton. So, considering that—

"I wanna get drunk," he decided. Mulligan did a double take, but then laughed and clapped him hard on the shoulder.

"Alright then! We'll stick you in someone else's car."

The car turned out to be Peggy from Accounting's tiny Honda. "If anyone pukes in here," she warned, "I'm telling you now there will be _consequences_."

"It's too early to talk about puking," Laurens complained.

Lafayette had his phone out and was texting again. "Andre and the Baron are both going to meet us there," he announced, making Laurens and Alex cheer.

"The _Baron_? Who the hell is that?" Aaron asked. "And why is he called the Baron?"

Alex was sitting beside him in the backseat and was all too happy to tell him the story. Aaron tried not to focus on the way his hands moved as he got into the retelling and started gesticulating wildly. The story involved flaming shots and a several missing pairs of pants. Aaron thought it couldn't possibly be true until they met the man himself inside the bar. The Baron was an older guy who was either already very drunk or just naturally very boisterous—and if that was the case Aaron could only imagine what he was like when inebriated. Well, maybe he'd find out. On the other hand, Lafayette's friend Andre was young and quietly polite, but with a wicked smile and sharp gaze that gave a sense he knew something you didn't. Aaron couldn't decide whether he liked him or not, so he escaped to a relatively quiet corner to drink with Peggy.

"Kinda looks like your boyfriend's abandoned you," she pointed out. Yeah, no, he wasn't getting sucked into the boyfriend conversation. He shrugged and changed the subject. Talking with an attractive, intelligent woman was always a plus, though, and he spent an amusing few hours in her company. He didn't end up drinking as much as he'd originally wanted to, seeing as he was keeping company with the DD, but by the time Peggy left to round up everyone assigned to her car, he was the most relaxed he could remember being in a while.

He was leaning against the Honda outside when Peggy emerged with her charges, except there were two more people than they'd started with.

"Um. Basic math says this isn't going to work," he pointed out. "Aren't you an accountant? Don't you work with numbers?"

Alex stumbled over and leaned against the car, right next to him. "Shhh. Quit while you're ahead," he warned.

"I'm sorry, did _Alexander Hamilton_ just tell _me_ to quit while I'm ahead?" he demanded, affronted. Alex just giggled and listed sideways until they were leaning against each other as much as the car.

"Well we're gonna have to fit somehow, because the other group escaped a few minutes ago and apparently Lafayette promised these guys a ride," Peggy told them.

"A _ride_ ," Laurens snickered, and dashed to the passenger side of the car with surprising coordination. "I call shotgun!"

Peggy gave them all a look. "I don't care how you do it, but the rest of you find a way to fit in the backseat."

"Can't we just send them in a cab?" Aaron asked.

"The Baron spent all his money on booze," Alex stage-whispered to him. "And Andre didn't even bring any money, people just buy him drinks."

"Jesus."

So they ended up like this: Peggy driving, Laurens shotgun, Mulligan in the seat behind Peggy (who had pulled the seat as far up as it would go until she was uncomfortably close to the steering wheel) with the Baron squeezed into the footspace below him (and complaining loudly about it), Andre in the middle with Lafayette in his lap, and Aaron behind Laurens with Alexander in his lap. It had taken a great deal of drunken maneuvering, including Aaron having to wrap an arm around Alex's waist to haul him into his lap when Alex only managed to slide himself into the middle seat before giving up and refusing to move any further. But once they were all settled Peggy had punched all of their addresses into her GPS and told them they were on their own getting their vehicles from the office the next day. Everyone agreed this was fair, thanked her for her service as DD, and then proceeded to continue an argument they must have started back at the bar.

Feeling slightly disconnected again, Aaron let his head fall back onto the headrest and closed his eyes. He felt like everyone in the car was acutely aware of the fact that he had Alex in his lap, but maybe that was just him. And acutely, excruciatingly aware he was. Alex sat twisted slightly diagonal towards the other occupants of the backseat, the better to argue with them. Aaron's arm was still around his waist. His legs were slightly parted and bracketing Aaron's left knee. Aaron couldn't get over this fact.

_You're not that drunk_ , he told himself sternly. _Stop thinking about it._

"Hey, didja fall asleep?" Alex asked him suddenly.

Aaron grimaced. "How could I fall asleep with you talking so loudly?"

Apparently taking this as a challenge, Alex started to bellow, "WELL I HEARD—"

He automatically lifted his other hand and clapped it over Alexander's mouth. Instead of moving away, Alex just _went with it_. He turned and settled more comfortably in Aaron's lap, so their thighs were aligned, and then leaned back into his chest.

Aaron was distantly aware that the argument was continuing around them, but this development was too riveting for it to really register. Alex still made no move to dislodge his hand, just sat silently like he was exactly where he wanted to be. _Oh God don't think about gags_ —came the sudden intrusive thought. Of course, this was the moment Alex chose to tilt his head to meet Aaron's eyes, fluttering his lashes like he knew exactly what Aaron was thinking.

_Asshole_ , Aaron thought fondly. Then: _shit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned last chapter that I loved italics, this is still true and also I love commas  
> ngl I used that ending line in basically the exact same form in my lams fic  
> I, too, think alexander hamilton is an asshole...fondly


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bumped up the number of chapters to 6, and I actually have up through 5 written out??  
> (does this mean I will edit them beforehand? unlikely)  
> if you read my lams fic you know that I usually don't update this regularly, and I am now attempting to motivate myself by responding to comments. so like I said over there if you comment and I reply I may sound stilted as hell but I am genuinely thrilled you have left a comment. kudos are also very appreciated!

Things always, _always_ escalated with Alexander Hamilton. While previously Alex had let the slightly too intimate touching slide without comment, now he seemed to be anticipating it. And then, once Aaron had unthinkingly reached out to pat his shoulder or take his arm, he was all too pleased to turn it into something completely inappropriate.

For example:

"Your hair is a mess," Aaron complained, picking at flyaway strands and attempting to smooth them back. "Did you run to the office this morning?"

Alex grinned. "You think it's a mess now, but wait 'til you've seen it after a night _in_." His tone made it clear exactly what he meant by 'night in,' and his volume made it clear to everyone nearby, as well.

"Jesus, Hamilton," Aaron snapped, because he had to work with these people. He hadn't called him Hamilton in a while; Alex frowned when he heard it.

Aaron retreated to his own office and hoped none of their superiors heard about this. The problem, he decided, wasn't that he couldn't deal with a few inappropriate but jokingly made comments. No, the problem was that it was very difficult to tell if Alex was actually joking or not, and Aaron had never been on the receiving end of Alexander's flirtatiousness. Sure, the man had a reputation for being charming, but he'd never bothered to use it on Aaron before. Or maybe he'd just never thought to. Either way, Aaron wasn't prepared to deal with it.

He made an effort to avoid Alex at the office, which lasted all of one day and ended when the man himself showed up at five on the dot in Aaron's office, pouting exaggeratedly and asking if they were going home together today.

"This isn't funny," Aaron protested, but only half-heartedly because everyone else on his floor had skipped out early for the weekend.

"Wasn't trying to be." He smiled—charmingly. It was devastating. Aaron resisted the urge to smack himself in the forehead.

"I still have things to do," he tried. "Sorry."

Alex just scoffed and strode up behind his desk, forcibly swivelling the chair so he could turn and sit in Aaron's lap. Again.

Aaron made an exaggerated 'oof' noise.

"Pfft, like you're not enjoying this." Alex wriggled around for emphasis; Aaron quickly grabbed him around the waist to prevent further movement.

This was just like in the car last week, he mused. Except this time no one else was around. "I do like having you in my lap," he said dryly. It was either a confession or a joke.

Alex was delighted. "Oooh, Mr. Burr, oooh," he swooned, leaning back against him with one hand pressed dramatically to his forehead.

"Just Aaron is fine."

Alex paused. "Okay. Aaron. What're we working on?"

Aaron rolled the chair closer to the desk so he could see the computer screen.

"Oooh." Alex leaned forward a bit as he became engrossed in the PDF. As he focused, he reached back distractedly to gather his hair to one side, moving it out of the way. Sitting right behind him, this gave Aaron a very close view of the long line of his bare neck. For some reason, it hit him with visceral clarity that it would take half a second, a few inches, to tilt his head and press a kiss to the space behind Alexander's ear.

"Yikes," he muttered to himself.

"You're telling me," the source of his problem agreed. "This is the shittiest-written invoice I've ever seen."

* * *

They settled into a pattern, for the most part. Aaron continued to touch, and Alexander continued to let him. Added to that, though, Alex started to reciprocate. Sometimes in an over-the-top asshole joking way, and sometimes not. Aaron wasn't sure which was worse.

In any case, he let himself be content with the status quo. And they definitely never talked about it.

He thought about it a lot, though. Most nights nowadays he ended up spending the period between lying down in bed and actually going to sleep just thinking about their interactions. They happened more frequently, Alex seeing fit to start insisting they hang out more. Usually after work, sometimes on weekends. He hadn't asked—joked?—again about going home together, but sometimes Aaron thought they were moving towards that point.

Some days he lay awake longer than others.

 _Exempli gratia_ :

Seeing Alex hunched over the drawer of a filing cabinet, huffing as strands of loose hair fell into his face while rifling through the papers. Aaron had stepped behind him and shoved his fingers into dark locks, pulling it back into a ponytail and dragging his fingers through multiple times to pick up the numerous stray strands that fell away. He had to grip tight to keep the smooth, silky tresses from slipping out as he tied them back with one of the bands he'd taken to wearing around his wrist since Alex constantly complained about losing his. And Alex didn't say anything, just sighed and pushed into the touch.

That night he replayed the motions in his head, thought about the goddamned sigh and a pliant, quiet Alexander under his fingers.

That was one kind of torture.

Another kind:

Turning a corner to find Alex red in the face, yelling at a pained-looking Madison near the elevator. Not even breaking stride, he stooped and grabbed Alex around the thighs and slung him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry before continuing on his way. Alex had shut up for all of five seconds before he resumed yelling, "I'm gonna kick your ass!" and pounded on Aaron's back with a fist. Even without seeing his face, Aaron could tell he was smiling; his threats were interspersed with breathless pauses that sounded like he was trying very hard not to laugh. When he deposited a very ruffled Alex next to Lafayette's desk, he turned to leave only to feel Alex's foot on the seat of his pants, more like a tap than anything, and turned back when Alex huffed, "Kick. Your. Ass," and then started giggling. His face was flushed and he was smiling broadly.

For some reason, this was the image that plagued him when he tried to sleep that night. Alexander _smiling_.

 _You_ , he told himself, lying perfectly still under the covers, _are a pathetic excuse for a human being. A human disaster_.

So, the crush wasn't going away. The sensible thing to do would be to quit his job and move to Mexico (okay, that was a bit extreme, and Alex would never let him get away with it). Or at least he should just avoid the man in question. But Alex needed someone to handle him. And God, he'd nearly thought 'to take care of him.' Aaron needed to pull himself together. The thing was, he was _good_ at handling...at taking care of Alexander Hamilton. Despite their differences. Maybe because of them.

Aaron had learned a lot about Alex in a few short months. Without ever discussing it out loud, he knew Alex's favorite color was green (he had a green hoodie he wore _all the time_ , even days it wasn't cold enough for it), he loved every flavor of ice cream but especially mocha (and he ate ice cream _all the time_ , even days it was too cold for it), and that when he was particularly distressed he would tuck his left arm over his stomach and start clenching his right hand into a fist. And Aaron got the feeling Alex had probably learned a lot about him, too, and wasn't that a terrifying thought? Aaron always played things close to his chest, and Alex managed to say practically nothing about himself even as he spouted off non-stop, but somehow without talking about what was going on between them, they'd become—in an odd sense of the word—close. At some fundamental level they understood each other, even when they didn't understand each other _at all_ , and this became obvious when one day Alex _couldn't_ talk.

Laryngitis was the official diagnosis, which Alex indicated to him by pointing at his throat, waving his arms around as though to indicate the universe at large was to blame for this travesty, and then sneezing several times in a row, violently enough that he bent double at the waist.

"I told you not to drink after Laurens last week at lunch," he chided when Alex came back up for air. "Want a cough drop?"

Alex glared but nodded, unwrapping the offered candy and sucking on it petulantly as Aaron put a hand to his forehead to take his temperature.

"You shouldn't even be here if you're this sick," he told him disapprovingly. "You're burning up. And you're gonna infect other people. Me, specifically."

Alex flipped him off.

"Fine then, suffer through work when you could be taking a sick day. I don't care."

This blatant lie was met with a snort—very unattractive considering the congestion. Alex started motioning wildly with his hands, around and over his head.

"Uh, hair? Tall? What—Jefferson?"

A grimace and a nod.

"What about him?"

More hand motions.

"Youuuuu need to tell him something?"

Another nod.

"Well write him an email or whatever."

More violent and frustrated waving or the hands. Ah.

"You don't want to write an email, you want to yell at him."

Emphatic nod.

"Well I hate to break this to you but you're not going to be yelling at anyone for a couple of days, _at least_."

More rude hand gestures.

"Can't yell at me, either," Aaron realized cheerfully. "Tough break."

Alex mimed writing something.

"Sorry, don't think I have anything for you to write with." This was clearly untrue, they were in Aaron's office which was well-stocked with pens and paper. "Why don't you just go home? And _rest_." He sighed when Alex grabbed his hand. "Or not." Alex started tracing letters onto his palm. The touch made him fingers twitch. "Hold on, start again," he commanded, frowning in concentration as Alex huffed and spelled out M-O-N-R-O-E.

"Oh," he said. "Well then."

They cornered Jefferson next to the tenth floor watercooler, because of course that's where he was. This venture was already worrying to Aaron, who had never felt the need to 'corner' someone before. He was letting Alexander influence him too much, obviously, but a more pressing concern was that Alex was still holding his hand, ostensibly in case he needed to spell something else out on his palm. _Why didn't I just let him have some paper_? he wondered. _Oh right, because I've turned into some kind of emotional masochist_. Again, Alex's influence.

Jefferson drew himself up to his full height when they approached, because he knew how tall he was, the asshole. "Well well," he drawled. "Burr and Hamilton. To what do I owe the _pleasure_?"

Alex scowled and his had tightened, but he didn't even try to speak. This made Jefferson smile.

"I heard you were at a loss for words today. Nice to see you actually shut up for once. Now if you'd just stay like that..."

 _What would Alex say_? "We're here to talk about Monroe," Aaron interrupted before he provoked Alex any further.

"...Oh?" He dragged they syllable out in a faux-interested tone. Seriously, what an asshole.

 _What would Alex say_? he wondered again. _Think like Alex_. _No, wait, that's ridiculous don't do that._

"You want to promote him to head the PR department. That's a bad idea," he said simply.

Jefferson smiled indulgently, like he was speaking to children. "Well frankly I have bigger things on my plate than some trifling PR issues. Actual _important_ business, _vital_ to the running of the company. Promoting Monroe, who I have every confidence in, gives me more time to do _important_ things while he takes on the tasks I don't have the resources or attention for— "

"That covers a lot of ground," Aaron interrupted, mouth getting ahead of him in worryingly Alexander-like fashion. Jefferson's eyebrows shot up, and Alex made a noise that was either a coughed laugh or a laughing cough. He was standing very much inside Aaron's personal space; he could feel the heat radiating off of him.

"Monroe is perfectly qualified for the job—" Jefferson started again, and well. Aaron knew exactly what Alex would say to that.

"You must be out of your _goddamn_ mind if you think—"

Jefferson actually reared back in surprise as Aaron delivered the most heated and profanity-ridden speech he'd ever made, about how Jefferson was a fool and Monroe a hack and while they'd certainly make quite a team the point of the company was to _make_ money, not blow the entire business into financial and PR ruin through total incompetence. "—Monroe is an idiot. he can't make up his mind, just goes back and forth like a kid on a swingset. He's a coward, a hypocrite, and doesn't have an opinion on anything; he can't think for himself, just follows the lead of other idiots such as yourself. He doesn't have a goddamned clue what he's doing and what he _does_ know how to do he only knows how to do _really fucking badly_."

Right. Part of the reason he'd gone along with this? He really, really hated Monroe.

He lost his train of thought when he realized Alexander was practically glued to his side. He looked over, and Alex was—oh, God. Alex seemed positively rapturous, watching Aaron's face with something akin to adoration. Overwhelmed, all he could manage was, "Uh." He was probably blushing.

"Gross," he heard Jefferson mutter, and his gaze snapped back around.

"I _will_ punch you," he warned, because at this point he might as well add physical violence to the list of questionable decisions made today.

The taller man just scoffed. "I'll take your comments under consideration," he said sarcastically. "And don't think I'll forget this." He waltzed off, seemingly unruffled by the haranguing or the threat. Asshole.

"Well," Aaron said finally. "I think I said everything you needed to say." When he checked again, Alexander's eyes were still glowing, but it wasn't as intense as before. And he was _smiling_. Aaron suddenly remembered their first meeting, when Alex had arrived at the company and barreled up to him already talking a mile a minute. _Talk less, smile more_ , he'd advised. What the hell had he been thinking?

He cleared his throat. Licked his lips. His mouth was dry, probably from talking so much. Alex watched him. "You should go home and rest now." They really were standing very close. "You're sick," he reminded both of them. Alex huffed but finally nodded in acquiescence. "I'll come visit you later?" Aaron offered spontaneously, because apparently his mouth wasn't quite done running away from him yet. He wished Alex would stop smiling and just say something.

Instead, Alex lifted a hand and cupped his face, just for a moment. Then he was gone.

What.

* * *

Alex regained his voice two days later, but he still rasped when he spoke and still had a slight fever.

"If you'd taken my advice and actually _rested_ these last few days you'd feel better by now," Aaron told him. Alex was currently lying on the floor of his apartment, looking bedraggled and altogether kind of pathetic.

Alex just groaned and patted the space next to him. After a moment's grudging consideration, Aaron lay down beside him. His back cracked—again—and Alex huffed a laugh and asked the ceiling, "Man, how old are you?"

"I'm a year younger than you, so shut up," Aaron said, also to the ceiling.

They lay side by side for a while. When Alex turned over to face him, Aaron turned, too.

"Now that I can talk again I wanted to tell you something."

"Oh boy." Despite the sarcasm, he was actually a bit nervous about this. While Alex was sick they'd been living more in each other's pockets than usual, and if there was ever a time to address their weird, undefined, overly-touchy relationship, this was it. Aaron wasn't sure if the nerves he felt were anticipatory or panicky.

"While I was sick—"

Oh, definitely panic.

"—and you talked to Jefferson for me, that was, I mean, what you said—"

Well, Aaron didn't really want to talk about this either, but it was preferable to the alternative.

Alex smiled. "It was _amazing_. I didn't think you could throw down like that! I was in _awe_ , man. Is that how other people feel when they see _me_ take on assholes like that?"

Aaron rolled his eyes.

"But, uh. I know you've worked with Jefferson before and it occurred to me that you might've blown it with him for my sake, so, y'know. Thanks. For doing that for me."

"Jefferson and I worked together, sure, but he's definitely an asshole. We're not friends," Aaron said, trying to avoid acknowledging the thanks, because honestly? He wasn't sure how he felt about his word barrage that day. He had more _control_ than that, usually, but he'd either lost it or let it go—a terrifying thought—to yell at Jefferson for Alex. Because of Alex. For him or because of him or both, and he couldn't, wouldn't examine the whirling stormcloud of 'Alex-feelings' close enough to tell what he was doing.

He needed to have more control. But.

"You look kinda pissed, though. I mean, it's cool if you are friends and you did that anyway, actually not really I'd have to tell you that you have shitty taste in friends."

"It's something else. Sorry. I was thinking of something else. I am not friends with Thomas Jefferson."

Alex regarded him for a long moment. _If he asks what's wrong I might—_ Aaron thought, but couldn't actually picture what he'd do. He just...didn't know what he would do. Jesus. Instead of saying anything, Alex just shifted a little: tilted his head back, curved his back and straightened his legs, lifted one arm slightly. Making a space, Aaron realized, and made a choked noise before shuffling forward into the offered hug.

It was a little awkward, being held on the floor of Alexander's tiny apartment, but it was _nice_. He scooted down until he could tuck his face into Alex's neck, which had the added benefit of cutting off eye contact. He moved in as close as he could stand. They each had one arm squished into the small space between them, and their legs were just barely grazing, but still. Aaron could feel the residual heat from the fever radiating off of Alex, who draped his arm over and around Aaron's ribcage and clenched a hand into his shirt. After briefly considering and then dismissing an explanation for how they'd ended up here, Aaron slid his own free hand over Alex's side, and then right up the back of his shirt.

Alex jerked and hissed, "Jesus, Aaron, your hands are _freezing_!"

He just hummed in response, inching a little closer.

With a sigh that Aaron felt as it expanded in the other man's chest and then blew out over his head, Alex maneuvered until their legs were tangled together, as well. "You're like a salamander," he complained half-heartedly. Aaron let this slide, because he was cold and Alex had started running his warm fingers over the back of Aaron's neck.

He _hated_ the cold.

"Please marry me," he slurred, giving up on dignity for the moment. Just for a moment.

"Wow."

"You'd be a nice wife. Or I could be the wife. Either way."

"Aaron, dear, if we got married we'd both be husbands. Neither of us would be 'the wife.'"

"Semantics," he muttered, rather impressively considering the haze he was rapidly falling into. "You know what I meant."

"And you know I'm _always_ going to call you out on semantics, yet you keep giving me openings. I'm starting to think you _like_ having me talk at you."

His grunt could probably be interpreted as an affirmative. Whatever. He was too tired and warm to care.

"I think," Alexander's voice softened as he continued, "I could just read words out of the dictionary and you'd totally be into it."

Aaron fell asleep to Alex whispering, "Aaron. Abalone. Ablaze. Adore. Affect. Aggravate. Allow. Alluring. Amazing. Argue. Awake?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have y'all seen [this artwork](http://www.thelilnan.tumblr.com/post/134140191893) by thelilnan?? RELEVANT TO THIS except laughing instead of yelling!  
> also Aaron's speech about Monroe is a paraphrase of something he actually said you can read on [this website](http://www.davidostewart.com/2009/12/burr_on_james_monroe/) for a 'constitutional lawyer'  
> also, yes, I quoted the animaniacs in there somewhere, plus a super minor Burr reference if anyone sees it


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are only two scenes in this chapter, and I'm not sure how I feel about them but here you go  
> ft. mentions of past lams, a possibly real buzzfeed article, attempted shovel talk, and expensive gifts

Aaron was having a problem, and he wasn't entirely sure what that problem was. It was complicated. For one thing, he may or may not be dating Alexander Hamilton. Another thing: he may or may not _want_ to be dating Alexander Hamilton. The idea filled him with a strange combination of dread and elation. And not necessarily in equal measure.

Just recently he'd noticed that if he walked by while Alex was talking to Laurens, Lafayette, or Mulligan, Alex would get distracted and turn away from his friends to follow his movements, like a flower following the sun. It was a bit heady—especially since it really seemed to annoy Laurens in particular. Once, he'd even walked by when Alex was in deep discussion with the boss himself, Washington, and seen him abruptly stop talking to turn and smile at Aaron instead. Now that went to his head—Aaron disliked Washington, and apparently their boss's favorite was more interested in seeing _him_ than the guy who'd facilitated Alex's rise in the company. He got a kind of selfish satisfaction from these instances, and if he started wandering through Alex's floor of the building more often, well, that was no one's business except his own.

He was starting to feel _possessive_ , he realized during another round of lying in bed thinking about his life choices. Was it normal to feel like this over someone who was just a friend? Was it normal to not _know_ if you were only friends with someone? _You can't be dating someone and not know about it_ , he told himself sternly. _That's ridiculous. You might be having feelings for him_ (sweet Jesus) _but you can't be dating without one person actually asking the other person out. Get over yourself._

The next morning he went to Alex's apartment again, ostensibly for work on a project but probably they'd just end up wrapped up on the loveseat watching a dumb movie. Which sounded really couple-y. But it wasn't. Alex let him in, still in his pajamas and yawning. He tended to wake up very groggy on the nights he actually went to bed and attempted to sleep a decent number of hours. It wasn't weird that Aaron knew that, either.

His host disappeared into the bathroom, so Aaron went ahead and sat on the loveseat. Alex's laptop was open on the coffee table in front of him, and he glanced at it briefly—and did a double take. The web browser was open on a Buzzfeed article, and the page was bookmarked. "Things You and Your Significant Other Are Doing That Make Your Friends Annoyed About How Disgustingly Close You Are."

Oh boy.

He leaned forward and scrolled through the article. "You go to restaurants together so often your server doesn't even need to take your order." Yeah, but was that really a couple thing? "You borrow each other's clothes so much you don't even remember who owns that shirt anymore." Alex stole his shirts all the time. Aaron had basically given him one green one, since as soon as he got it back and washed it Alex would just take it again. Still, close friends could do that, right? This article was ridiculous. "You don't even have to talk out loud, you can communicate through expressions and hand gestures." The entire time Alex was sick, yeah. "You just casually groom each other, even in public." Okay, yeah, Alexander had apparently stopped trying to make himself look presentable for work once he figured out Aaron would do it for him. "You know all the little weird little details about each other, like their favorite movie and food allergies." As far as he knew Alex wasn't allergic to anything but he should really check and make sure. "People invite one of you to go somewhere and assume the other is coming because you guys are attached at the hip anyway." Aaron _had_ been invited by proxy to a lot of Alex's friends' meetups (so yeah). Plus, speaking of attached at the hip, Alex had taken to pressing up against his side and just leaning on him. And sometimes Aaron would put an arm around Alex's waist when he did this, just to keep them both steady. Basically the personal space bubble had been abandoned on the apartment floor.

 _Shit_ , he thought, eyeing the list warily. What else? The other bullet points were generic things, mostly, that he felt could apply to anyone. "You're comfortable using the bathroom at the same time" threw him for a loop, because why would anyone want to do that? He thought about what would happen if he did barge in on Alex in the bathroom just now. _He wouldn't even be fazed_ , he realized. And if Alex walked in on him? _I wouldn't be surprised at all_. Yikes.

The last entry was, "You're basically already married." This immediately brought back the memory of lying on the apartment floor, and waking up feeling pleasantly warm with Alex draped on top of him—

He closed the tab.

Maybe leaving the article up was some form of passive-aggressive psychological warfare, he thought. To what end, who knew, but Aaron had no idea what was going on here so the explanation made as much sense as any. Except passive-aggressive wasn't really Alexander's style. He could be petty and vindictive, sure, but he was rarely "passive" about it. If he was trying to do something there, Aaron would _know_.

Once again, he considered that maybe they were in a relationship without him knowing about it. Why else would Alex be reading articles about stuff like that? Christ, this was confusing. Aaron would just have to wait it out and see what happened. And in the meantime, maybe he'd take one of Alex's shirts, too. Start wearing it and see how Alex liked having his clothes stolen. The purple button-up would fit Aaron better, anyway. Just in case this _was_ passive-aggressive psychological warfare.

Alex wandered back in after a few minutes of Aaron stewing in silence. He grabbed a bag of cheddar popcorn from the kitchenette and whapped Aaron lightly on the knees. Aaron took this as his cue to resettle on the loveseat with his back to the armrest so Alex could sit between his legs, leaning back against his chest. He handed the popcorn off to grab the laptop, which Aaron could now see had _The Producers_ queued up in another window. Aaron loved this movie; he hummed his appreciation as he hooked his chin over Alex's shoulder to watch.

* * *

The next weekend they went downtown. As part of the city’s annual Founding celebration, there were numerous vendors out in the closed off, crowd-thronged streets, at a variety of tents, booths, and tables. Alex’s crew was wandering around a circle of tables laden with stuff for sale, with a large banner over the area declaring the products being sold were LOCALLY MADE!!! Alexander kept picking things up, smiling at the vendors, and then putting them down again. He sidled closer to Aaron to murmur, “I’m all for locally made and stuff, but I can’t actually afford it.”

Aaron hummed noncommittally.

A few feet away from them, Mulligan held up a hand-printed T-shirt, nodding his approval at the design, while Lafayette behind him displayed the ugliest shirt Aaron had ever seen and made exaggerated faces to express his opinion on the lurid color. Alexander moved to join them, grinning. Aaron debated whether he wanted to be part of the ensuing shenanigans, but Laurens saved him having to decide when he clamped his hand on Aaron’s shoulder.

“Can I talk to you?”

Aaron shrugged the hand off, even as he nodded, because this conversation (or confrontation) had been inevitable. They moved together to a table a safe distance away from the others and feigned interest in the handmade scarves Alex had been admiring earlier.

“Winter is coming,” the older woman manning the table told them. Whether this was a statement of fact or an omen, or maybe just a Game of Thrones reference, Aaron wasn’t sure, but in the face of Laurens’ stony expression it seemed fitting.

Here was the situation. Everyone knew Laurens and Alex had been a thing, and that it had ended spectacularly badly. The details—what went wrong, exactly what kind of a “thing” they had been—were known only to the parties in question, but still. Everyone knew, or thought they did. Alex didn’t talk about it, but Aaron noticed things. Sometimes Alex got this pinched look on his face like he was trying to hold back a comment when Laurens was around—and Alex, as a rule, did not refrain from commenting. It seemed like the two of them were trying really hard at the ‘staying regular friends who have never felt anything more than platonic affection for each other’ schtick, and the force of their effort showed in their strained attempts to act normal around each other. Whatever had happened between them, it had been bad, but not bad enough to destroy their friendship.

Laurens and Alexander were too similar, in Aaron’s opinion, not that he’d be stupid enough to voice that thought aloud, even if someone had deigned to ask him. Too similar to work out as anything more than close friends, and no, that was not jealousy talking.

“You and Alex are very different,” Laurens started, breaking into his thoughts with unerring accuracy for irony. Then, with typical bluntness, he continued, “You sure you’re good for him?”

Seriously?

Aaron locked himself into place. Spine straight, hands tucked into his pockets, feet at a set width, head up, expression fixed in an obviously fake smile that never failed to piss Alex off (so it was bound to irritate Laurens). “I don’t see why you think you get to have an opinion about this, but actually yes, I think I am.”

Because he _was_.

Laurens grimaced, but restrained himself to a tight, “Yeah? I’m his friend, of course I have an opinion.”

“Hmm.” Well Aaron didn’t particularly care about Laurens’ opinion, and the man himself had picked up on it, if the angry flush on his face was anything to go by. “Something else to add?” He asked.

Laurens’ hand shot out and grabbed his arm just above the elbow, and okay, Aaron did _not_ appreciate all this manhandling. “Look, I dunno what Alex has told you about us—” Nothing, but Laurens seemed to think he had, for some reason. Interesting. “—but we’re still,” slight pause, “friends. I can have an opinion on who he dates, and honestly I don’t think much of you.”

Okay, so even John Laurens thought they were dating. Did that mean they were? Had Alex told him they were?

“Hey,” Laurens snapped. He’d started to look genuinely pissed off. “You listening?”

Aaron carefully pried his arm out of Laurens’ grip and took a step back. “Well I’m glad to hear that Alex’s _friend_ is looking out for him, but it’s not really necessary.” He lightly stressed the word ‘friend,’ and that was what set the other man off.

“Just because I wanted better for him—just because I wasn’t _selfish_ —”

“You weren’t selfish _enough_ ,” Aaron retorted, losing his cool for just a moment before he reigned himself back in.

Laurens, on the other hand, seemed to calm down in the face of his brief flash of ire. “Fuck off,” he muttered, without any real force behind it. “You don’t know what I have to deal with. You don’t know shit about me.” Which, fair enough, Aaron didn’t. Laurens turned away, crossing his arms and watching Alex, who was now loitering around a stall full of paintings on driftwood. Laurens looked wistful, and Aaron was almost starting to feel bad about it.

“If you talked to him…” he trailed off, not sure what else to say because Alex really hadn’t told him anything, and Laurens was right. He didn’t know what they’d been, or what they’d gone through.

Laurens just snorted, though. “Like I’m gonna take that advice from _you,_ Burr.” Ouch. Also, fair. “If you want my approval, you’d better keep up that ‘selfish’ attitude,” he warned as he started to walk away. “You’d better work at this.”

Not sure how to take that statement, Aaron asked drolly, “And I should care about your approval because?”

“I’m his best friend. When you guys get married, I’m gonna be his best man.”

Aaron was glad Laurens wasn’t looking at him anymore, because he was sure he had a really embarrassing expression on his face. He turned away and towards the table, though, just in case anyone glanced over. The old lady caught his eye and smiled. She was, in fact, wearing a Game of Thrones shirt.

“I’ll take this one, please,” he told her, pointing out a green scarf as he reached for his wallet. The woman shot a look in Alex’s direction, then waggled her eyebrows at him.

“Want me to wrap it or are you just going to give it to him?” she asked. Aaron repressed a sigh.

He took the scarf over to his friends (his kind-of-friends, really, and his kind-of-boyfriend, maybe?) and held it out to Alexander.

“Pretty,” Alex cooed, skimming it with his fingers. “You gonna get it?”

“Already did. For you,” he clarified.

Alex snatched his hand back. “But those were expensive,” he protested, rather weakly. His hand crept forward again, but didn’t quite reach. Aaron huffed and stepped into his space, looping the scarf around Alex’s neck himself. It was knitted, warm and soft, with gold threads running through it that complemented his skin. Aaron stepped back, just a little, to admire his work.

Mulligan coughed and steered Lafayette away with an exaggerated, “Those are some niiiice scarves, let’s go look at the scarves.” Laurens lingered, though, and with both of their gazes on him, Alex grinned and preened a bit.

“How do I look?” he asked, turning his head right and left to model the scarf.

“Show-off,” Laurens laughed, pivoting on his heel after a moment to follow Mulligan and Lafayette. Alex watched him go for a second before his eyes flicked back to Aaron. Audience gone, Aaron slid in close again. He hooked a finger under Alex’s chin and used it to tilt his head up, displaying more of the scarf wrapped around his neck. “Show off,” he encouraged, and saw Alex’s eyes darken, felt his breath hitch—

“WOW,” Lafayette said, very loudly, from the scarf table. “These _are_ expensive.”

“And very well made,” Mulligan said appreciatively.

“Thank you!” said the vendor.

Laurens was seemingly engrossed in examining a rainbow-hued scarf.

Aaron still had his hand outstretched, a single point of contact. He wanted to push his hand further, along Alex’s cheek and into his hair, cradle his head and pull him closer—

And it occurred to him, when Alex dipped his head briefly to kiss Aaron’s fingertips with a murmured, “Thanks, Aaron,” as he pulled his hand back, that maybe he _could_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [leslie](http://aozoranoshita.tumblr.com/post/145032758222/hippasilla-broadway-or-bust-coach-profile) in button downs tho???  
>  comments and kudos are so, so appreciated!!  
> A TROPICAL STORM IS COMING hopefully I'll get sent home from work early with all this rain and lightning we're expecting over the next two days (I don't wanna work memorial day ahhhhhh)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't update this thing without getting crazy in love stuck in my head  
> this chapter brought to you by almost-but-not-quite-resolved ust!! (actually this bit in the elevator is the first scene in this fic I plotted out, and I was driving the truck at work and I kept pulling over in random parking lots to text lines and ideas to myself)  
> ALSO "what are we?" which is now in the tags and makes an appearance in this chapter is directly inspired by zukoandtheoc!

Aaron had been thinking about this a lot, sure, but maybe he’d been thinking about it the wrong way. Rather than just putting up with his touchiness, Alex might actually welcome it. Or even more than that, he might actually _want_ it. Aaron didn’t want to assume or cross any lines here, but he was edging towards 80% surety that Alex was actively into this, with 15% still on passively allowing it and 5% stuck on psychological warfare.

Honestly he should have just asked what the hell was going on between them weeks ago, but he’d waited past the point of ridiculousness and he didn’t want to bring it up _now_ for fear of disrupting the status quo. The arrangement they had currently was nice, and really if they just stayed at equilibrium, neither of them pushing into new territory, Aaron could live with that.

Of course, it was easy to be content when he was flopped over the couch in his apartment, head nestled on Alex’s lap, getting his head petted and the back of his neck rubbed, “like a lazy housecat,” as Alex put it.

“I like cats,” Aaron told him, mostly muffled since his face was buried in Alex’s thighs. He twisted a little, causing his spine to crack once again. Alex made a disapproving noise, but Aaron just sighed and resettled, feeling a bit like he’d melted out of his usual rigid posture and into a sprawling, contented puddle. And he was so warm, too. If he _was_ a cat, he’d be purring.

“You know I gotta leave soon, right?” Alex asked after a few more blissful minutes of digging his thumb into Aaron’s nape. Ugh, right. Aaron grumbled and looped an arm over Alex’s knees. Alex laughed softly and after a few beats offered, “Want me to stay?” He sounded genuine, like he would stay if Aaron asked.

He hid a smile and avoided answering directly, instead saying, “Go hang out with your friends. I’ll be fine here.” He shifted to allow Alex to get up, sitting up himself because without Alex there to lounge on, he might as well get some work done.

“They’re your friends, too, y’know,” Alex told him as he puttered around the apartment, picking up his discarded jacket, shoes, scarf, and bag. Aaron hummed from his spot on the couch, not really agreeing. “They’re warming up to you!” Alex insisted. “You’ll be running with the Sons of Liberty in no time.”

“Can’t wait.”

“Or you could come with me,” he continued. “It’s not just my friends who’ll be  there, some of your people are bound to show up. Bellamy and Theo and, uh.”

“And Peggy,” Aaron supplied.

“Right, and Peggy. It’s cool that you guys are friends now, I haven’t talked to her much but I know her sisters and they said she’s really cool, one of those people who’re quiet at first but start getting loud once they get to know you.” Still chattering, he toed his shoes on and shrugged on his jacket. He walked back over to the couch to present Aaron with the scarf, who dutifully looped it around Alex’s neck, and then over his mouth so he could cut in.

“I’ve got work to do, actual solo work this time, so I’ll stay in. But I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

Alex wriggled until the scarf was tucked under his chin. “Is it the Chase files? ‘Cuz actually I had some thoughts about those.”

“ _Good night_ , Alexander.”

The other man huffed and rolled his eyes, but then smiled. “Fine then. I’ll just—” He jabbed his thumb towards the door. Half-turning to go, he spun back suddenly and ducked down, pressing a kiss—not to the corner of Aaron’s mouth, quite, but close enough their lips almost, almost touched. “Good night, Aaron,” he breathed, pulling away enough for their eyes to meet.

“Good night,” Aaron repeated again, on autopilot, at a loss for anything else to say. Alex gave him a last lingering look before practically fleeing the apartment.

 _What in the_ hell _was that?_

Aaron fumbled for his phone to text Peggy. _????_ he sent.

 _whenever u text me i picture u staring at a photo of aham and sighing WHAT ARE WE? at it,_ was the immediate response. Then a few seconds later: _what do u WANT burr?_

That was the question.

He’d thought he wanted equilibrium. At least, he’d been willing to settle for it. But if there was the possibility for more than this in-between _thing_ they’d fallen into? That could be worth pursuing.

His phone buzzed with one last piece of advice from Peggy: _take a leaf out of ham’s book and just GO FOR IT!!!! also don’t text me again while this party’s on talking to u about this is just depressing me,_ accompanied by several emojis that were probably supposed to mean something but he didn’t bother trying to decode.

 _Tempting_ , he thought, fingers skimming over the skin Alex had kissed. But if he did decide to push this further (towards something official, towards kissing, towards—focus, Aaron), he would want to be sure Alex was amenable to it. And while signs were pointing to yes, Alex _would_ be down with a real relationship, Aaron was nothing if not cautious.

He was going to have to—horror of horrors—have a serious feelings talk with Alexander Hamilton. Aaron blew out an aggrieved breath and gazed down at his phone, only to realize that since his background picture was a photo of the man in question in a ridiculous yoga position, he was literally staring at a picture of Alex and sighing.

He tossed the phone further away onto the couch and snagged his laptop so he could get some actual work done. If his fingers occasionally came up and brushed against his face? Well. Nobody needed to know.

* * *

Apparently after that first time, some kind of dam had been broken, because Alexander kept kissing him.

Casually. But deliberately. On the cheek, on the forehead, on the back of his hand. And most recently, when Aaron had leaned over the back of Alexander’s chair to check the computer screen, to the bottom of his jaw. He’d frozen in place, and _felt_ Alex’s self-satisfied grin at his reaction pressed against his skin, before the smug asshole pulled back and nonchalantly returned to work. So that was one thing, but then sometimes it didn’t even seem to be deliberate; an exhausted Alex pressing absent-minded kisses to his temple before tottering away to find breakfast was _too much_. His heart started beating double-time, for God’s sake. This was affecting him to a ridiculous extent.

But Alex hadn’t attempted to kiss him on the mouth. And Aaron hadn’t kissed Alex at all. Anywhere. Even though he really, really wanted to. He’d been telling himself he wouldn’t instigate anything until they’d actually discussed this whole—thing, whatever it was, whatever it could be—but he was still wary of upsetting the balance. Although he had a feeling it was rapidly shifting in Alex’s favor.

This feeling was further confirmed on Monday morning, when he stopped by Alex’s office to drop off a bagel. Alex was chewing on a pen, a bad habit that had quite literally exploded in his face on occasion. Aaron nudged his chair with his knee, so it swiveled Alex away from the screen and towards him. “Why do you keep doing this?” he asked, exasperated, plucking the pen away. “I’m starting to think you have some kind of oral fixation—” Oh Jesus, why had he said that? Alex grabbed his wrist before he could pull the pen completely away, and leaned forward so his lips just barely brushed the pads of Aaron’s fingers where he was gripping the pen. His lips were dry, so they caught, dragged a little against Aaron’s skin. Alex hummed, and Aaron’s hand twitched. He adjusted his hold on the pen to free his thumb, feeling slightly dazed, and pressed it to Alexander’s bottom lip. His mouth opened slightly, and Aaron curled his thumb, just a bit, until he felt the ridge of Alex’s teeth and froze.

“I brought you a bagel,” he said tightly, hoping nothing else embarrassing would come out of his mouth.

“...Is it an everything bagel?” Alex asked, and Aaron could _feel_ that, Jesus.

“Yes.”

Alex made a considering noise, then released Aaron’s wrist to make a grab for the to-go bag in his other hand. “Thanks, Aaron,” he chirped once he’d unearthed the bagel from a bundle of napkins. Apparently completely unaffected.

Aaron swallowed, twirled the pen in his fingers nervously. Alex’s gaze shot to his hand immediately at the motion, and stayed there even as Aaron put the pen down. His eyes were very dark. Aaron mumbled his excuses and fled.

Any attempts at productive work failed, even though he skipped his usual lunch with Alex to try and focus. All his effort was to no avail though, so he gave up in the early afternoon and headed for the elevator, planning on heading down to Accounting so he could get Peggy to make fun of him until he could think clearly again.

Lafayette was already in the elevator next to the button panel. Aaron gave him a curt nod and got a smirk in return. They descended in silence, standing as far from each other as possible. Aaron eyed the floor indicator above the door. His stomach flipped as they neared Alex’s floor—and then, lo and behold, the elevator stopped and Alex stepped on. He made a beeline for Aaron, crowding him into the corner.

“Are you alright?” Aaron asked, concerned when Alex didn’t immediately start talking. He brought his arms up around Alex’s waist and noted with burgeoning alarm that the other man was practically vibrating. Alex buried his face in Aaron’s shoulder, still not speaking, and pressed even closer until Aaron’s back was braced against the wall of the elevator. Aaron started rubbing one hand up and down, trying to be comforting, but it didn’t seem to help. “Alex?”

Across from them, Lafayette started to laugh.

“Well someone has certainly worked themselves up,” he said. Aaron glared. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “Have you not touched him _at all_ yet?” the Frenchman asked, almost pitying. Seriously, what? Aaron’s whole problem was that he _kept_ touching Alex, and what the hell did—oh.

Aaron bared his teeth in an approximation of a smile. “You can get off the elevator now,” he told Lafayette, whose expression went from surprised to gleeful in a matter of seconds. Without a word he hit the button for the next floor and, when the elevator stopped a few moments later, stepped out. As he left he hit the cancel button on the control panel, and gave Aaron a lascivious grin.

The doors closed. The elevator didn’t move. Aaron turned his attention to the still-silent man in his arms.

“Alex—” he started, only to be cut off.

“You don’t have to hold back,” Alex said, sounding like it took a lot of effort to get the words out.

Okay, and what the hell did that mean?

Alex wriggled, like he was torn between pushing forward and leaning back. Aaron tightened his grip. Alex finally lifted his head, if only to glare at him. “You just—you’re always in control, all of the time, and it’s driving me crazy! How are you so—?” He groaned and hid his face again, leaving Aaron staring into space, blinking as he tried to process this revelation.

Alex thought he was ‘in control?’ While Aaron had been spending all his time bemoaning his _loss_ of control. _Then who’s flying the plane?_ he thought, giddy. Oh, this was too good.

One hand trailed up Alex’s back of its own volition—‘in control,’ ha—to tug at Alex’s ponytail, which elicited a choked whine. It seemed like Alex had interpreted Aaron’s waffling as _control_. Like he'd been _teasing_ him. On _purpose_. He started to laugh, quietly, and Alex pulled back to glare again.

“It’s not funny,” he hissed. Then he dropped the ire. His expression shifted to something softer. Almost uncertain. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Aaron agreed, heart thudding but still grinning. Alex opened his mouth to say something else, no doubt very ornery, so Aaron ducked in and used his grip on Alex’s ponytail to tilt his head so he could press a soft but firm kiss to the space under Alex’s ear—a spot he’d spent a lot of time thinking about. Whatever Alex had meant to say was lost in a gust of air, like the wind had been knocked out of him. It was such a small gesture, but Aaron’s blood was humming warm in his veins, and he was intensely aware of every point of contact between them. Alex was probably feeling the same after all that (actually unintentional, despite what he thought about Aaron’s superhuman control) buildup.

“Aaron—” he choked out.

The elevator started to move.

“ _Shit_. Aaron—” he tried again, but it turned into a stifled moan when, unperturbed, Aaron opened his mouth to bite down lightly.

Abruptly, Aaron pushed the other man a step back, gripped his shoulders, and turned him around to face the doors. A second later they opened and Charles Lee stepped onto the elevator. And wow, Aaron could sense the daggers Alex had to be glaring at the guy.

“Getting off?” Lee asked, noting that none of the buttons on the panel were lit.

“Nope,” Aaron told him cheerfully. He heard Alex mutter simultaneously, “I wish.” Aaron squeezed his shoulders warningly for a moment, then dropped his hands.

“Second floor, please,” Aaron requested, pleasant.

Alex scoffed. “Basement.”

Lee stared, and Aaron saw on his face the moment he decided he was better off not asking. Lee hit the requested floors as well as the lobby button. The elevator resumed its descent, its occupants in slightly awkward silence. As they neared the second floor, Aaron leaned and whispered in Alex’s ear, “Try not to get into a fight with Lee in the next minute or so, alright?”

Alex visibly shivered. “No promises,” he sniped back under his breath.

Good enough. Aaron kissed his cheek as he brushed past and stepped out of the opening doors, immediately turning to watch them close again.

“Have fun in the basement.”

Alex gave him a filthy look, jabbing a finger at him in a clear _you’ll pay for this_ gesture. Lee looked increasingly alarmed at the prospect of spending the next two minutes in an enclosed space with Hamilton.

The doors closed. Aaron could feel himself grinning and didn’t care. He’d regained some control of this situation, and he could touch—kiss—as much as he wanted, now that he knew where Alex stood on the matter.

Well, for the most part.

The door to the stairwell opened and Lafayette sauntered out, gliding down the hall looking extremely smug.

Aaron accepted the high five as he passed by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo this is chapter 5/6 and it's the end of what I had already written?? next update might take longer than a week but  
> kudos and comments would be fantastic!! thank you for reading this ridiculousness


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...upped the number of chapters, I'm sorry I lied  
> I just like them to be about the same length, so have some fluff  
> everything will be resolved next chapter, which should be out next week because it's already mostly done  
> sorry again

Of course, soon as Aaron decided to get it over with, talk to Alex and move on to worthier pursuits—preferably involving more skin-to-skin contact and less clothing—as soon as he’d steeled himself to do it, work got _slammed_. And not just in the usual end-of-the-fiscal-year-disaster way, but in the we’re-breaking-from-the-parent-company-and-starting-our-own-business way. _And_ it was the end of the fiscal year. They’d lost quite a few employees who’d chosen to stay safe with the company they were splitting from, which meant they had to do all the work for year-end and for starting up the new business with significantly fewer people than necessary. The office building had basically become everyone’s home for the week; people camped out in their offices and snatched brief naps and vending machine snack breaks instead of leaving at the end of the day, and there was a sign-up sheet to use the two shower stalls in the basement bathroom. The accounting department in particular was in a frenzy. Someone had taken a sharpie and scribbled a large black X over the elevator button for the second floor, a warning to all that they were liable to be torn apart by pissed off accountants if they tried to give them any more work to do.

In this case, Aaron was working on a completely separate set of paperwork issues than Alex, who was ensconced in the upper level offices doing who-knows-what. He rarely emerged but when he did, he would find Aaron and they’d spend a few minutes together—well, cuddling, really. Usually too exhausted to talk much. Aaron would be digging through filing cabinets for hard copies of old files, or staring down the printer and trying to will the papers he needed into existence, when Alex would come shuffling around the corner, press right into his space and bury his face in Aaron’s shoulder. For a few peaceful minutes, Aaron could put his arms around him and sway gently, neither saying anything, until Alex’s phone would buzz and he’d groan, detach himself, and lope off again for parts unknown. So yeah, they hadn’t really talked about it yet, but at this point Aaron wasn’t really worried. They’d get to it.

In the meantime, Aaron was a productive worker and maybe his skillset wasn’t being utilized as much as it could be by the higher-ups, because occasionally he found himself with brief half-hour periods of downtime. He’d tried to seek Alex out during these once or twice, but the man was always engrossed in something so there wasn’t much point. Aaron ended up either sleeping or mindlessly watching cat videos instead. It occurred to him, after briefly seeing Alex and then having to return alone to his office, that he could be doing something else in his scarce free time. Because if Aaron was feeling overworked, God knows how much pressure Alex had to be under.

 _Washington pushes him too hard_ , he thought, and clicked through to the next video.

The next time Alex huddled up to him—at the watercooler, of all places—Aaron was ready. They swayed in place for a little, as usual, but then Aaron stepped forward and nudged Alex backwards a step, gently enough that Alex didn’t even look up, just sighed into his shoulder. Left foot forward, lift the right, left back in place, pause, back with the right, lift the left, right back in place, pause, repeat. Aaron counted the beats in his head as he went through the steps, Alex following along seemingly on instinct. On the third set, he finally lifted his head, blinking. “Are we dancing?” he asked, starting to smile.

“I’ve been looking up basic salsa dance videos,” Aaron admitted, unabashed.

Alex threw his head back and laughed, lines of exhaustion clearing from his face, at least temporarily. “Gonna spin me?” he asked when his laughter had mostly subsided.

Instead of answering, Aaron put some more space between them so he could lift Alex’s arm on the third beat. The other man spun on his heel effortlessly, keeping contact between his right hand and Aaron’s left, and then they went smoothly back into the basic steps.

“You catch on pretty quick,” Alex complimented, a little breathless.

Aaron shrugged. “I’m a prodigy,” he deadpanned, which just made Alex start laughing again.

“So you got a lot of free time, huh, to be watching all these videos at work?”

A small crowd of IT interns came careening down the hall towards them, and Aaron dropped an arm to Alex’s waist to guide them closer to the wall, out of the way of the stampede. Alex followed him easily, and Aaron had to quash some inappropriate thoughts. At this rate he was going to get a complex.

“I have some free moments,” he told him once the danger had passed. “What about you? Have you been getting any rest? Food?”

“I haven’t slept in two days,” Alex informed him cheerfully. “And Laurens got pizza delivered.”

“...And did you eat any of it?”

“Y’know, I honestly don’t remember at this point?”

Aaron sighed. “Next time you can get away come to my office and I’ll feed you.”

“And we’ll dance some more?”

“Sure. Just take a break at some point, yeah?”

One more spin, but this time Alex let go of his hand and took a step back. “We’ll see, I’m pretty busy, though. Actually I should probably get back.”

Aaron waved him off. “Okay. For now.”

For a moment they just stared at each other. Alex’s gaze went from his eyes to his mouth, but then he just turned and left with a quick, “See ya later.” Aaron watched him go. He had a bit more spring in his step than when he’d first turned up, and if Aaron listened carefully he could just barely hear singing:

“ _...como no sobre el sol de la noche clara, mi vida. Oye quieres bailar conmigo, cariño_ …”

* * *

The next time he saw Alex it was only in passing. He was going down the hall towards the bathroom, Alex was hurrying in the other direction with Mulligan in tow, apparently talking his ear off. They actually passed each other before Alex registered his presence; he immediately backtracked and grabbed Aaron’s arm, diving right into complaining: “I’ve been Skyping with people from the old place _all morning_ and it’s like they get off on being as _completely unhelpful as possible_ , I swear to God—”

Aaron blinked, unprepared for this onslaught, and Mulligan had the nerve to laugh at him.

“C’mon, man, we gotta get go,” his friend interrupted as Alex continued chattering.

Alex stopped short and groaned. “Ugh. I guess.”

Aaron used the momentary pause to pull him close for a moment. “Want my advice?” he murmured.

Alex gave him a mulish look. “Is it the same advice you always give me?”

“Yes.”

“Then no, I don’t want it.”

Regardless, Aaron gave it to him. “Talk less,” he said, and kissed Alex on the forehead. “Smile more.”

Alex huffed; Mulligan cleared his throat pointedly.

They disappeared again.

Two hours later his phone notified him he’d been added to a group chat, consisting of Alex, Mulligan, Lafayette, and Laurens. A second later Alex typed _NO ONE TELL HIM_.

 _???_  he sent.

Mulligan texted him separately, a screenshot of the chat from a few minutes previous:

 

 **JOHN** : and it WORKED?

 **LAF** : incredible

 **ALEX** : HE THANKED ME FOR BEING SO UNDERSTANDING AND SAID HE’D SEND THE FILES RIGHT OVER

 **ALEX** : ALL BECAUSE I DIDN’T CALL HIM AN IDIOT AND SMILED AT HIM

 **HERC** : you literally talked less and smiled more and it worked

 **HERC** : also I’m adding aaron to the group chat

 

Then, back in the group message:

 **HERC:** your secret is safe with us

 

Aaron laughed so hard he dropped his phone.

* * *

On the fifth day of the split, Aaron had just come off a six-hour phone negotiation and had managed to snag the coveted comfy couch in the seventh floor lounge. No one else was around, and he was looking forward to sleeping for as long as he could. His phone buzzed as soon as he sat down and he groaned.

It was Alex: _hey where are you_

He considered just going to sleep, but it had been over a day since they’d seen each other so he texted back his location. A few minutes later Alex appeared, paperwork in hand. He dropped the files directly next to Aaron on the couch, turned and approached the vending machine, bought a candy bar, and shoved the whole thing in his mouth without saying a word.

“Wow,” Aaron managed.

Alex chewed for a minute, swallowed, and said, “Oh hey.”

When he came back over to the couch, Aaron held his arms out so Alex could easily slide onto his lap.

“My favorite place to be,” Alex informed him with a grin, leaning in to kiss Aaron’s cheek. “Hey, how’re you, it’s been utter chaos, hasn’t it? Boss man told me to take a break but I took a few things with me and then I couldn’t find you in your office—”

“I was going to take a nap.”

“That’s cool, I’ll just do my thing while you sleep.”

“You should sleep, too.”

“Nah. Maybe later.”

Aaron was too tired to argue it any further. They rearranged so Aaron was horizontal, with Alex lying on top of him, kind of awkwardly considering he had also snagged the paperwork and plopped it down on Aaron’s chest, sitting up with his elbows digging into Aaron’s ribs so he could read.

Aaron could ignore the discomfort, though. That was no problem, with how tired he was. The problem was that Alex kept muttering to himself as he read, and rather passionately, too. And Aaron couldn’t quite make himself ignore that voice when he heard it, so he kept jerking awake when Alex made a particular vehement exclamation to himself. When he made the mistake of actually opening his eyes, Alex caught him looking and took it as an invitation to ask his opinion on what he was reading. Something about division of assets.

Aaron groaned a protest. “I am too tired to think about this,” he muttered.

“Fine, just listen then?”

A longer, more heartfelt groan.

“C’mon, it’s just a few pages!”

“It’ll be longer than a few pages with you commenting on everything.”

“You don’t even have to keep your eyes open,” Alex wheedled. “I just need to talk this through out loud and I’ll feel better if someone else is at least hearing it.”

“Mmm. Fine. But I am closing my eyes.” And he did, with Alex grinning down at him, victorious.

Alex resumed his reading and commentary. Occasionally he’d tap twice on Aaron’s chest to test if he was awake and listening. Aaron would tug his ponytail twice in response, which seemed to be satisfactory. In fact, it seemed to be _more_ than satisfactory, because the more Aaron pulled the longer it took for Alex to get back on track with his reading. A few more tugs and he’d managed to pull the ponytail loose, letting him get his fingers slide into Alex’s hair and comb through, picking out knots until it was sleek and smooth again. After a while Alex gave up on the reading, tossing his file onto the floor and laying his head on Aaron’s chest in its place.

“You know, we need to talk at some point,” Aaron remembered out loud, yawning.

Alex just grumbled and dug his nose into Aaron’s sternum. He fell asleep that way.

“Who’s the giant cat now?” Aaron whispered just before he followed him under.

They managed to sleep a whole two hours before Laurens came to fetch Alex for some impromptu meeting. Alex complained that Aaron had tricked him into sleeping, but he lacked any real venom. Laurens shot Aaron a thumbs up before the two disappeared. Again, Aaron dismissed the idea of grabbing Alex for that talk they needed to have for later.

They'd get to it. Eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys there is a Scottish salsa band called Salsa Celtica and I couldn't believe it but [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eztLupjuIdw) is the song I was listening to  
> also I was watching salsa basics videos on [this](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCulIPhX8Jyz2FnT8AeMR08g) channel


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOR REAL  
> THE LAST ONE  
> there is NO CONFLICT just SWEET, SWEET RESOLUTION  
> tortured these assholes long enough

They didn’t see each other for another full day, but it didn’t occur to him that maybe Alex was avoiding him until Eliza showed up in the lounge, looking harried—but gracefully so, as always.

“So,” she said, apropos of nothing, plopping down in the seat beside him. “What’s going on between you and Alex?”

Aaron stared at her, sandwich halfway to his mouth. Eliza had never been the type to gossip and he had no idea why she’d be so interested in what was ‘going on’ between him and Alex.

“Did he put you up to this?” he asked, suspicious.

Eliza’s expression twitched in an admirable attempt to keep a straight face, but she ended up caving with a sigh. “He did. He wouldn’t stop bothering me to ask you, even though I’m so busy with…” she trailed off and gave a helpless gesture indicating the general building around them.

“The numerous OSHA violations?”

(Eliza worked in HR.)

“Yes, honestly everything’s a bit of a mess right now. And Alex is really stressing about this for some reason and I don’t know why he won’t just talk to you himself but I can’t have him bothering me about it right now,” she explained in a rush. “And no offense, but I’m not particularly interested in the details of your relationship status.”

“None taken,” Aaron assured her. “I’ll talk to him. If he needs an _explanation_ of some kind, he should know the only person I’ll give it to is _him_.”

“You’re so sensible,” Eliza said, admiring. “It’s refreshing after all this...nonsense.”

Aaron got the distinct impression she had wanted to swear right there, but had restrained herself. He was suddenly, intensely glad she had decided to follow their start-up business instead of sticking with the safer option.

“I’ll try and get him to stop badgering you,” he promised.

Eliza beamed. “Oh good, thank you.” She stood up again. “I mean, I still expect to be invited to the wedding, but let’s wait until after this has all blown over, hm?”

Aaron took a bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly as he considered whether it was worth it to make the token we’re-not-getting-married protest. No. No it wasn’t.

“Understood,” he told her.

Eliza waved and left, heels clicking and hair swishing.

Aaron continued to eat, contemplative.

He was going to have to corner Alex before he bothered any more of the Schuyler sisters; he doubted Angelica would be as forgiving as Eliza for wasting her time. The question was, why did Alex feel like having someone sound him out about this relationship thing was necessary? It was uncharacteristically indirect for a guy who could be such an obnoxious loudmouth. And now that he thought about it, it was unusual for Alex not to at least text him if they hadn’t seen each other all day. “He’s avoiding me,” he muttered. Well.

He stood up, stuffing the last of his sandwich in his mouth and brushing crumbs off his pants. If Alex thought he could avoid this, he had another thing coming.

He headed up to the Human Resources floor, Alex’s last known location. Angelica was at the first desk he saw, speaking rapid-fire French into the phone. When she saw him she jabbed her pen towards the back elevator, glaring. Aaron winced but followed her directions. He caught a glimpse of Alex’s ponytail as the man himself dashed into the elevator and turned to hit a button. They locked eyes for a moment—and then Alex let the doors close.

 _Rude_.

Aaron crossed his arms as he approached the lift, watching the indicator above the door. It went up to the second-to-last floor and stopped. He kept watching. A few minutes later, the indicator light showed someone going up to the roof. Aaron rolled his eyes and called the elevator back down, following his absconding almost-boyfriend up to the rooftop, where there was a small garden area and a few benches.

Alex was pacing and muttering to himself when he emerged; he actually jumped when he noticed Aaron standing there watching him.

Aaron gave him a sardonic smile. “What on Earth are you doing up here?”

“Um, uh,” Alex stammered, at a loss for words.

“Alexander. We need to talk,” he insisted, because this had gone on long enough, dammit.

Alex’s expression hardened. “Fine,” he said. “ _Fine_. You wanna break up? Fine. Whatever.”

Wait. What?

“What?” Aaron asked, caught completely off-kilter. “Wait. _What_?”

Alex leveled an accusing finger at him. “Don’t play dumb with me, you’ve been giving me that serious expression and saying ‘we need to talk’ and I _know_ that’s how breakups go.”

Aaron had to pause and pinch the bridge of his nose because he could already feel a headache coming on.

“So...we’re dating?” he asked slowly. “Right now, barring this hypothetical breakup?”

“Well.” Alex floundered for a moment, throwing his arms up. “I don’t know! I think so?”

“How can you not know if you’re dating someone?” Aaron asked, fighting the slightly hysterical urge to laugh.

“Oh fuck off! I have no idea what you’re thinking, like what the hell is going on in your head—?”

“ _You_ don’t know what’s going on in _my_ head?” This time he did laugh, disbelieving. “Well maybe if you’d talk to me instead of hiding _on the roof_ —”

“Are you telling me to _talk more_?”

“I think in this situation it’s appropriate, yes.”

“Not if you’re breaking up with me.”

“We can’t break up if we’re not together.”

“So _are_ we together?”

There was the question that had been haunting Aaron for weeks. And it turned out the other party didn’t know either.

“This is ridiculous,” he huffed. But, shit, Alex actually looked _hurt_. “Do you want to sit down?” He stepped forward and guided Alex back to sit on a bench without waiting for an answer. Alex sat heavily, and Aaron knelt in front of him, between his legs. He put a reassuring hand on Alex’s thigh and looked up at his recalcitrant almost-maybe-boyfriend.

Alex eyed his hand warily, but didn’t say anything.

“I didn’t come up here to break up with you.”

A noncommittal hum was his response.

“I came up here to ask you out, actually.”

“...What.”

“I realize that we’re _basically_ already dating, but. I want to make it official. So we’re both on the same page here.”

Alex blinked rapidly at him. “Seriously?” he choked out after a minute.

“Seriously.”

“Oh. Well.”

“Well?”

“Well _ask me_.”

Aaron gave him a look. “Alexander Hamilton, will you go out with me?” he asked, deadpan.

“That wasn’t very romantic.”

“The only real food I’ve eaten in two days was a sandwich I stole from Van Ness, and you look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“That’s fair.” He leaned forward to rest his forehead against Aaron’s. “I would love to go out with you, Aaron Burr.”

_Finally._

“This has really been stressing you out, huh?” Aaron asked.

“It wasn’t at first actually? I mean I was confused because you kept _touching_ me, but for a while I was kinda going along with it to get to you, like psychological warfare—” ( _he fucking knew it)_ “—but it was hard to keep thinking of it like that when you’re such a nice boyfriend.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

“Pfft, shut up. It got to the point where I was thinking about you _smiling_ , of all things. My heart was beating fast, Aaron, what kind of bullshit is that?” Aaron laughed, and Alex went slightly cross-eyed meeting his gaze from so close together.  “What?”

“I have a confession.”

“Yeah?” he still sounded a little wary.

His fingers edged further up Alex’s thigh.

“Sometimes you drive me to distraction.”

This got him a delighted, “ _Really_?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Like in an annoyed way or like a sexy way or what?”

“Both. At the same time, even.”

“Right now?”

“Leaning more towards annoyed right now actually.”

Alex grinned and leaned forward, finally _—finally_ —connecting their lips. Aaron surged into it immediately; at this point he didn’t think it was possible to hold himself back. They were both overeager, pressing into each other too hard, with Alex pushing down on him and Aaron pushing back from his knees. His fingertips were probably going to leave bruises on Alex’s thighs, and he thought, _good_ , and, _finally_ , and _mine_.

This wasn’t the best angle though, could be better. He stopped pushing forward abruptly, which made them both fall backwards under Alex’s enthusiasm. His boyfriend slid into his lap yet again, and Aaron ended up pinned underneath him, back pressed uncomfortably to the rooftop and his legs half kicked-out and nudging the bench. Despite some momentary confusion at the shift in position, Alex dove right back into kissing him and this time the pressure was just right and the angle was perfect. Alex kept brushing short, teasing kisses across his lips, pulling back a fraction of an inch, for a fraction of a second, before leaning back in again. Their breath mingled in gasps. Eventually Aaron had the presence of mind to lift one hand to the back of Alex’s head, yanking out the ponytail—Alex inhaled sharply—stroking through once before pulling him in for longer, deeper. With his other hand he started fumbling at the buttons on Alex’s shirt, except goddammit this was _his_ shirt. He bit down on the thief’s bottom lip, felt him smirk against his mouth in response. Once he’d opened the shirt just enough, he broke away from the kiss to duck his head and mouth along Alex’s ridiculously distracting collarbone.

Alex gasped out a laugh. “Y’like being under me, huh?” he murmured, and then he rolled his hips and Aaron had to pause for a moment to close his eyes and groan. Heat traveled, he remembered suddenly, between two bodies to equilibrium, until both were equally warm. Between the two of them, under the sun and under Alex with his hair loose and his shirt gaping open, they were generating enough heat to create a fucking magnetic field. Aaron could feel himself starting to sweat, and really, _really_ , were they going to go at it like hormonal teenagers on the rooftop of their office building?

He cracked one eye open, saw how Alex’s chest was heaving and the golden tan skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and decided the other man needed a hickey _right_ _there_ , immediately. He’d managed to get one leg between Alex’s thighs, and God he needed to remember to tell the man how much he loved his thighs, and to get his mouth fairly far down Alex’s chest when the door to the stairwell next to the elevator burst open with a bang and John Laurens strode out with a loud, “ALRIGHT! Time to break it up, kids, we gotta business deal to close!”

They froze. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Alex muttered from somewhere above him; Aaron was too embarrassed to look up.

 _I’m going to kill Laurens_ , he thought, not even angry about it, just a calm realization.

Alex wriggled until he could whisper in his ear, “You’re not allowed to kill him.”

Aaron blinked, finally looked up to meet Alex’s gaze. The bastard actually looked amused. “Did I say anything about killing him? I never said that.”

“You were thinking it. I could tell.” He seemed inordinately pleased about this fact.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I plead the fifth.”

“When they call me as a witness I’m gonna hafta lay you out _bare,_ Burr.”

“Spousal immunity,” he protested immediately.

Alex was delighted. “This is the second time I’ve had you under me where you’ve kinda sorta asked me to marry you!”

“Um.”

“So good with words.” He patted Aaron’s cheek.

Laurens made a disgruntled noise. “Guys seriously, this is cute and all, and by cute I mean gross but we gotta go and get this done. So we can all go home.” He turned and startled trundling back down the stairs. “Also I’m so telling this story in my best man speech.”   

They watched him go.

“Wanna take the elevator?” Alex asked after a moment.

* * *

John did, in fact, tell the story in his best man speech. Along with bragging about the fact that he’d known he would be the best man even way back when he was giving Aaron the shovel talk.

“Why are our friends so embarrassing?” Aaron asked his husband, who was sitting beside him and grinning broadly as John pantomimed a highly exaggerated depiction of his face when they’d gotten caught making out on the roof two years ago.

“Why did it take _you_ so long to get married?” John retorted, overhearing.

“Well it took us a while to figure out if we were actually engaged or not,” Alex put in, grin widening. “Technically Aaron asked me before we even started dating officially and we kept tiptoeing around whether it was an actual thing for a few months before Aaron here got the balls to actually up and ask me—”

“Sweet Jesus,” Aaron muttered, casting his eyes heavenward for a moment before leaning over and cutting off his husband—he was never going to get tired of using that word, it was so _definitive—_ with a kiss. And then a few more, while the rest of the wedding party started whooping in the background.

“You are—you are—” Alex tried to say between kisses.

“I am,” Aaron agreed. “We are.”

And they were.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF YOU'RE INTERESTED IN THERMAL GRADIENTS CAUSING ELECTRICAL FIELDS AND THE SEEBECK EFFECT YOU CAN READ ABOUT IT [HERE](http://scitechdaily.com/scientists-generate-magnetic-field-using-heat-instead-electricity/)  
> otherwise  
> IT'S OVER  
> seriously thank you for reading this nonsense and leaving comments and kudos you're too kind  
> and as always feel free to hmu over at my [tumblr](http://aozoranoshita.tumblr.com/), I don't post very often but I am, in fact, there...lurking....  
> see you on the other side


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